Review Summary: Cal-li-for-nia kicks, it's unbearable, board shorts, no shirts on top.
4 of 4 thought this review was well writtenThe bright plains of California seem to be a hot topic in the mainstream. Then again there has always been a fascination with the west coast culture. What better way than to make music to celebrate all the wonders of the sunshine state. San Diego pop punkers Fight Fair burst onto the scene not long ago after releasing an eight track CD titled
Settle The Score. The break out track ‘Pop Rocks’ earned them both loads of recognition and hate. Fast forward and we see these surfer dudes riding a wave of fame all the way up to
California Kicks.
The boys have acquired a poppier sound with more funding to be plugged into the process. The problem with this is the only saving grace was Fight Fairs rough edges that monitored the poppy aspects. The single that broke them into the limelight was a line and sinker for the ladies and the rest of the album was actually heavy hitting popcore for the male demographic. I have to hand it to the boys because it was a smart move. Unfortunately, Fight Fair have stepped into dangerous territory before having a true career to fall off from.
The disappointing decision is shown by Fight Fair opting to ditch their appeal to both genders. The previous effort had decent lyrics but this is watered down garbage ailing from tired topics: surfing, girls, partying, and things only someone from their area would grasp. The self-titled track has frontman Alex Bigman singing, "Cram the buds in the van cuz we need out fix of Del Taco/Or maybe some In-n-out/Double Double Whole Grill/Animal Fries/Yeah!" Apparently no one told him that the rest of the world doesn't have these fast food joints.
I implore you to round up good company and take shots for every time baby, girl, party, beach, and California are mentioned. When you're wasted after one song perhaps this will become more suitable because the tracks pull you under like a tide and drown you in until you're nauseous. "Dinner Date” is a cheap attempt at convincing women that these guys will be the sweetest of gentleman. The claim drags on for the entire album and contradicts itself with other lines of the "lets fool around for fun" approach. Nothing meant to woo the imaginary girl comes off as anything other than a douchebag trying to play the "emotional" card.
The music is hindered by the production that’s radio Disney status and the gangs back up vocals do their best to imitate the beach boys. The face palms keep coming with "Hey Mickey" rip-off, "SexyFancyMoney." An obnoxious laugh from a bratty girl leads into her asking the boys, "Tell me what you want/You want sexy/You want fancy/You want money/You want to party/Tell me what you want boy/That's me baby." It only gets better when Bigman says he'll give her the keys to his car and pay off her credit cards if he can get laid. The message in general is so pathetic and the song alone induces rage upon entering your eardrums.
I'm positive this will be cherished by mindless chicks who frequent the beach in their volkswagen beetles who gobble up katy perry. After all, Fight Fair now suffers from bubblegum pop meant to be chewed, drained of taste, and then spit out. I'll sign off by quoting the last lines of wisdom from ‘California Girls,' "So tell me do you wanna California Girl/So tell me do you wanna surf/So tell me do you wanna p-p-p-p-party." I state on behalf of the pop punk community, "We really don't wanna California girl if they listen to this crap, we really don't wanna surf with you unless you get attacked by a shark, and we really don't wanna go to your date rape p-p-p-p-party."
